


Calm The Fire

by maricharde



Category: The Hobbit, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Post BotFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maricharde/pseuds/maricharde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard is sure he would enjoy his visit in Mirkwood immensely if only he was able to sleep through one whole night without having nightmares... Based on this post: http://rinkakuleo.tumblr.com/post/118455784095/i-really-love-all-the-post-botfa-diplomacy-fics-in</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm The Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEmqMD-DBk0  
> A huge THANK YOU to Ada (somewhatbyronically) for being an amazing beta! <3  
> Warning for PTSD and panic attack descriptions. 
> 
> I'd like to add that I do not suffer from PTSD and I have never experienced a panic attack. So though I tried to describe them as accurately as possible, I might have made some mistakes I'm not aware of. If that is the case, or if these scenes are in any way offensive or wrong: I'm sorry, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix them.

The fire is everywhere. Bard watches helplessly as the black arrow misses its goal and falls down to the ground. The tower he's standing on begins to collapse and the dragon laughs viciously. Bard tries to pull Bain closer but the boy slips and falls before he manages to catch him. The man can hear the screams of the whole town and the desperate yelling of his daughters.

He failed.

He failed everyone.

The flames reach his clothes.

Bard sits up abruptly, panting and covered in sweat. After a few seconds of looking around the unfamiliar room he remembers where he is. He falls back down on the bed and stares at the leaves and flowers painted on the high ceiling, trying to calm down.

Surely the stay in the Elvenking's halls would be much nicer if he was able to sleep for one whole night. It's been a few months since the dragon attack and Bard had hoped the memories would fade with the cold and that spring might bring him some relief from flashbacks and nightmares. Clearly he was mistaken.

He sighs and gets out of bed. He knows he won't be able to fall asleep again. He puts some clothes on and leaves the room.

***

Thranduil can hear the footsteps in the corridor before whoever is approaching knocks on the door. Really, men make so much noise. He starts to think that inviting them for three days for some official meetings and general politics was a mistake after all. Setting his glass of wine down he looks up from the papers he was browsing and wonders exactly who dares to interrupt him in the middle of the night.

"Enter." he says coldly.

The huge door opens with a creak and the king of Dale steps in hesitantly. In the warm light of the fireplace Thranduil can see his messy hair and slightly trembling hands and the dark circles under his eyes. _You should sleep more. Like a normal mortal_  Thranduil thinks to himself.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." says Bard quietly. _Of course you're interrupting._

"No, not at all." replies Thranduil.

He gets up and pours another glass of wine. Handing it to Bard he gestures towards one of the armchairs standing by the fireplace. The man accepts the glass and takes a sip of the dark, red wine, but doesn't sit down. Thranduil notices he's avoiding looking at the fire.

"Damn, this is strong." Bard notices, wincing. Thranduil smiles politely and sits back down on his chair, facing Bard.

"Did you want to talk about something, Dragonslayer?" he asks, crossing his legs. Bard frowns.

"Please do not call me that." he says, his eyes fixed on the floor. "And no, not really." he adds. "I just... I couldn't sleep." he looks up and smiles apologetically.

Thranduil doesn't say anything and watches the man for a few seconds. He can see the worry in his eyes and wishes he could do something to chase it away. He doesn't really comprehend why he cares, but he's trying to find the words that could help. Before the silence becomes too awkward he gets an idea.

"How are your children?" he asks.

They talk for a while and then sit in comfortable silence, Bard leaning on a wide windowsill, clearly not wanting to get anywhere near the fireplace. Thranduil returns to his papers and lets the king of Dale deal with his thoughts. He figures some company might be all the man needs at the moment. And after an hour or so Bard stands up.

"Thanks for the wine." he says. Thranduil bows his head down and watches as Bard walks out the door.

***

When they see each other the next day neither of them mentions their night time encounter. The day is spent on official meetings and pertractations. But in the late evening there's again a knock on Thranduil's door. This time the armchairs have been moved away from the fireplace and there's a glass full of wine already waiting on a table. They talk until dawn about their children, their wives, their everyday lives and their past. Sometimes there are long periods of silence between them, but neither of them really mind. Bard slips back to his bedroom as the sun rises.

The men are supposed to leave next morning and there's a celebration planned for the evening. A bonfire and a feast, to honor the successful negotiations and say goodbye to the men of Dale in style. They meet again during the day to discuss final details and sign treaties, but the afternoon is spent on preparations.

When the sun starts to set everyone gathers on a meadow. The elves brought out tables and chairs, and there are lanterns hanging down from the branches. Musicians prepare their instruments. A huge deer has been roasting over the bonfire for a long while now and the pleasant smell fills the air. Barrels of wine stand in the shade.

Thranduil sits at the head of one of the tables, watching everyone and everything, occasionally giving orders, but mostly lost in his own thoughts. He notices Bard and some of his men emerging from the forest, led by one of the elves. The king of Dale is supposed to sit on the chair opposite of Thranduil and the Elvenking can see him walking towards his seat.

He does not yet notice how tense Bard is. The man barely hears the chatter of his friends walking beside him. He's not able to look away from the bonfire and his breath quickens.

Images of Laketown devoured by flames flash before his eyes. He blinks a few times and tries to walk past the bonfire but he doesn't even see it anymore. He sees the dragon and hears the screams of his kids. He stumbles a few steps back and closes his eyes, trying to calm down and come back to reality.

Suddenly he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head and sees Thranduil. The elf's face seems expressionless as usual.

"Do you want to leave for a while?" he asks quietly. Bard nods, not able to form a word.

"Come." The elf puts his hand on Bards back and gently leads him out of the meadow and to a small path between the trees.

"Everything is fine. Try to breath deeply." he says. His voice is soft and reassuring. After a minute they are far enough not to hear anything but the singing birds. They are alone.

There's a fallen tree covered in soft, dry moss and Bard sits down on it, trying to calm down. The fact that he feels incredibly embarrassed really isn't helping.

"Do you want to stay alone?" asks the Elvenking. Bard shakes his head. No, he doesn't want to be alone. He needs to stop thinking about the fire, he needs somebody by his side. And to his surprise, Thranduil sits down next to him.

Bard hides his face in his hands. They sit in silence for a few minutes.

"One time when Legolas was little" says the elf suddenly "he was out in the forest with one of the guards and he noticed a butterfly that he absolutely had to catch."

Bard takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the elvenking's words.

"He ran away chasing it before the guard had a chance to react" Thranduil continues, "and when the butterfly started to fly upwards, Legolas started climbing up a tree."

Bard thinks about the tall, proud elf he met a few months earlier and is trying to imagine him as a little kid chasing butterflies. It is a surprisingly difficult task.

"Finally he reached the top of the tree and the butterfly flew away. And then Legolas realized he has no idea how to get down. He sat there for about an hour before the guard finally found him, on the verge of tears. And you'd think this solved the problem, but my son refused to accept anyone's help in getting down. He cried and pushed all the guards away. I had to leave an official meeting to go out to the forest, climb up that cursed tree and get him down myself."

Bard smiles. The story did quite a good job of getting his thoughts off the attack of the dragon. He's almost breathing normally.

Thranduil looks at him inquisitively.

"I should go back to the feast, but you do not have to." he says slowly. "We will take no offence."

"That's a relief." Bard says. He feels coming back to the bonfire would be a nightmare. "Thank you."

Thranduil stands up. "I'll show you the back way to the halls."

Bard spends the evening alone, mostly reading. He is surprised when he finds books written in common speech in his bedroom. All of the books he had seen so far were written in Sindarin.  And he's stuck wondering if this is simply an expression of elvish hospitality. He has to admit that he's really hungry though.  He would try finding the elves' pantry if he wasn't afraid it would be considered offensive or a sign of bad manners. But going back to the feast is not an option.

Before midnight there's a knock on the door. Bard closes his book.

"Come in." he says.

The door opens and Thranduil walks in, carrying a plate of meat and vegetables and a bottle of wine.

"It would be a shame to let you go to sleep without a meal." he says. His smile is a bit more visible than usual - although it's still barely there - and his cheeks are pink. Bard wonders how much wine the Elvenking drank tonight.

Thranduil stays to keep Bard’s company as the man eats. And Bard is incredibly grateful and happy that the elf came to visit him. He enjoys Thranduil's company, his voice, his laugh. But Bard is also absolutely exhausted, and about two hours later after a long period of silence the Elvenking realizes Bard fell asleep.

He stands up and covers the man with a blanket. Then he walks out of the room quietly. He heads towards the forest, hoping that a brisk walk would help him clear his mind.

From the first time he met Bard, Thranduil was fond of him, but over the course of the last few days he realized that what he felt wasn't only fondness. And for the first time ever his own feelings confuse him and scare him.

***

In the morning their farewell is short and official. They wish each other good luck and say they look forward to seeing each other again. And Thranduil really is. He hopes Bard feels the same.

All the men leave on horses, carrying gifts, escorted by a couple of elves. They all seem more comfortable with each other than a few days ago, exchanging jokes and chatting. The elves stopped looking down their noses at the men, and the mens' eyes are no longer full of distrust.

Thranduil is glad. He never used to care much about his neighbours, and he certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with the former Master of Laketown, who was an utterly disgusting creature in Thranduil's eyes. But he has to admit that now, with Bard as king of Dale, he cares much more. He tries to convince himself that it's just easier to have friendly relations with the town closest to them, but somewhere deep down he knows it's not just that and that he's lying to himself.

The next time he sees Bard is a few months later in Dale. Spring has turned into summer. Thranduil and Bard both have things to discuss with Dain, but since Thranduil refuses to travel to Erebor and the dwarves don't even want to consider staying in Mirkwood, Dale is the neutral ground.

Bard tries not to show it, but he is incredibly nervous. It's the first time he's having guests as a king. And it's a lot of guests. He knows it's not his job to take care of them and cater to their needs, but that doesn't stop him from worrying about every little detail. And the fact that most of his guests hate each other isn't helping. He feels he's going to end up as a mediator between Thranduil and Dain and he's not exactly looking forward to it.

But his biggest problem is the Elvenking himself.

Bard has been quite busy the last couple of months. He had a city to rebuild and many things to learn. But every time he was able to find some time for himself he found himself thinking about Thranduil. He tried telling himself that he had no right or reason to feel the way he feels. All they had were a few conversations and there was no way the Elvenking could ever feel the same. But Bard wasn't able to stop missing the elf's stoic presence by his side and those piercing blue eyes that haunted him in his sleep.

It's late afternoon and he's walking around outside, waiting for the first guests to arrive. He knows he should wait for one of his men to bring the guests to his throne room and welcome them there, but he's too nervous to wait inside. He can’t stand in one place. He feels uncomfortable in his fancy clothes and with a crown on his head, but he understands he has no choice.

He hears the clatter of hooves on the paved road and around fifteen elves ride onto the courtyard, led by their king, who's sitting on a magnificent white horse. It looks less grand than the elk Bard remembers from their first meeting, but that animal was killed in battle, and Bard supposes Thranduil doesn’t just have a stable full of elk somewhere in the woods.

They say hello the same way they said goodbye - in short, official words, Thranduil's voice cold and haughty. This is how Bard remembers him from before the battle, but not from their nighttime conversations. Some men arrive to take care of the horses, other show the elves to their chambers and help them with their luggage.

As Thranduil walks past Bard, heading towards the house in which a room for him has been prepared, he stops for a while. He meets Bard's eyes and smiles.

"It's good to see you again." he says, in a warm, kind voice. Before Bard has a chance to answer the Elvenking walks away.

The dwarves arrive shortly after, in a different fashion than the elves - there's singing and shouting, and Dain almost crushes Bard's hand in greeting and his people don't wait for the men's help to walk inside and start getting comfortable. The rest of the afternoon and the evening is spent with the guests settling in.

Then there’s an official dinner. Bard gives a welcoming speech. He's not trying to use fancy words and he speaks shortly and concisely. At the end he raises a toast to successful negotiations, but from the looks exchanged between Dain and Thranduil he can tell nothing will be as easy as he would like it to be.

The dinner ends early. They scheduled the first meeting for early morning, so each of the kings hopes to get a good sleep - but for a long time other people, dwarves and elves can still be heard walking around, talking, singing, arguing, before everyone finally settles into bed.

But Thranduil can not fall asleep.

He hoped distance and time would help him deal with his feelings and return to his more withdrawn position. But one look in Bard's eyes today was enough for him to realize he didn't deal with anything. He tosses and turns in his bed - which is way smaller than what he's used to, but he decides not to complain - listing all the reasons against allowing his feelings to bloom. But he knows the wall he built around his heart is broken and there's nothing he can do about it.

He sighs and gets out of the bed. After a few minutes of walking around the unfamiliar corridors he finds a small balcony with a wonderful view of the stars. He watches the sky for a while, but he's not alone for long.

He hears footsteps and turns around, having nowhere to hide anyway. To his surprise he sees Bard. Noticing that the dark circles under the man's eyes still haven't disappeared he asks himself if "tired" is just Bard's default state.

"What are you doing here?" asks Bard quietly, walking closer.

"I couldn't sleep." answers Thranduil. Bard smiles, remembering that first sleepless night in Mirkwood. "You?" adds the elf.

"I got up to check on the kids. And to see if the stoves in the kitchen are cold." admits Bard.

"Do you do that often?" asks the elf, feeling he already knows the answer.

"Every night."

The weather is warm and they spend a few hours on the balcony, talking just like they did back in Mirkwood. Bard allows himself to enjoy the Elvenking's closeness. He missed this voice and this smile. At first they're standing, but after while they sit down on the floor, their arms almost touching.

"Why don't you sleep at night, Dragonslayer?" asks Thranduil after a long period of silence, deliberately using the name Bard doesn't like. Bard frowns and doesn't answer.

"I wish to help you" Thranduil pushes, "but I can't if you will not talk to me." He hesitates for a second and then puts his hand on Bard's. The man sighs.

"I keep having nightmares.” he says. “About the dragon, about the fire, about everyone dying. And it's not just nightmares, it's flashbacks during the day too." He looks at Thranduil with a sad smile on his face. "I can't stand a stupid bonfire. I don't even visit the kitchen during the day, I can't look at the stoves. And I feel like that damn lizard will crawl out of the lake any second." His voice is quiet and full of resignation. "I'm just... I'm a mess."

He turns his palm up and links his fingers with Thranduil's.

"I know how you feel." says the elf slowly.

Bard shakes his head and scoffs. "What, you killed a dragon too?" he asks jokingly.

Thranduil doesn’t answer. Bard looks at him disbelievingly.

“Wait, really?!”

The elf smiles bitterly.

"I faced the serpents of the north a long, long time ago. It gets better after a while." he says. "The nightmares still come back sometimes, and I got used to being around fire." he adds.

Bard stares at him, at a loss for words.

"I'm offering my support." continues Thranduil, after a moment of silence. "Please let me know if you need to talk or... escape. And may I just add, you were luckier than me. The dragon didn't hurt you physically."

Bard realizes his mouth is open.

"But... you do not have any scars, do you?" he asks. He immediately thinks that it’s a really stupid question, but the elvenking smiles sadly.

"But I do." He closes his eyes.

Bard watches in horror as the elvenking's face begins to change. Scalding and wounds appear on his left cheek, and then the skin seems to melt away, exposing flesh and muscles. In a second there's a gaping hole in the elf's cheek, and when he opens his eyes the left one is completely white.

Bard opens his mouth in shock again. He is frightened, but not disgusted. Thranduil blinks and suddenly his face looks normal again. Bard hesitates for a second. Then he slowly reaches out and touches the elf's cheek. At first just with his fingertips, but when Thranduil doesn't move away he puts his whole palm on the elf's warm skin.

Thranduil closes his eyes again and leans into Bard's touch. For a second they sit still like that.

And then suddenly Thranduil feels Bard's lips on his, a gentle, soft kiss. He reacts immediately, pulling Bard closer and kissing him back fiercely, just for a second allowing himself to forget about everything else. Bard puts his hand on the back of the elf's head and weaves his fingers into Thranduil's hair. They pull away after a second. Bard leans his forehead against Thranduil's.

A thousand thoughts races through Bard's head. He took a chance, frightened by his own boldness and he fully expected to be pushed away. He feels like he's going to wake up any second now. _There's no way that just happened._ But the touch of Thranduil's delicate skin and his silky hair between Bard's fingers prove that he's the luckiest man in the world.

"That's not the reaction I expected" murmurs Thranduil softly after a few seconds of silence.

"Oh really?" asks Bard, smiling. "Is your highness offended by my outrageous behaviour?"

Thranduil lets out a laugh.

"Absolutely not." he answers, before pulling Bard closer and kissing him again

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, my headcanon little Legolas throws tantrums and calls for daddy, FIGHT ME.  
> Now I'm off to write a new chapter of my rock band au.  
> Follow me at elfandbowman.tumblr.com for barduil trash on your dash


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